


my life is better when we're together

by readbetweenthelions



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Anal Sex, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 16:42:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1865019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readbetweenthelions/pseuds/readbetweenthelions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Midorima really just needs a date for his sister's wedding, and Kise is probably the only one who will put up with it. It would have all gone so well if they didn't fall for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my life is better when we're together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jessicamiriamdrew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessicamiriamdrew/gifts).



> this fic was written for and with CONSIDERABLE input from Bonnie (RedheadScientist). she's the person that makes this all possible.

Midorima has gone through a _very_ extensive mental list of people who could qualify for this task, deciding who would say yes to it, and he is (distressingly) left with a list of only _one_.

Kise Ryouta.

Midorima’s little sister is getting married, and Midorima thinks he can’t exactly show up _alone_. He needs a date, to make it seem like he’s not disgustingly alone. It’s kind of sad, that Midorima needs to arrange a fake date instead of just, you know, _actually having a boyfriend_. But, what can he do. With a determined breath he picks up his phone and calls Kise.

“Hello?” Kise’s voice says on the other side of the line

“Hello, Kise,” Midorima says.

“Midorimacch!” Kise’s voice is loud and gleeful, and Midorima resists the urge to hold the phone a little farther from his ear. “It’s been a long time!”

“Yeah, it has,” Midorima says.

“So what’s up?”

“Well, not a lot, I suppose.”

“Not a lot? You don’t ever call me when there’s ‘not a lot’ happening!”

Kise has always been able to see right through him. It’s a severe disadvantage to this plan. “Look, Kise. My sister is getting married, and – ”

“Ahh, Yui is getting married?” Kise exclaims, interrupting Midorima. “I didn’t know! When’s the wedding? I bet she’ll look so beautiful! Is her husband nice?”

“Uh, that’s kind of what I wanted to talk about,” Midorima says, breaking through the stream of Kise’s questions. “I need a plus one for it and I was… wondering if you’d come.”

“Oh, God, Midorimacchi, I’d _love_ to!” Kise gushes. “Your sister is the sweetest person, I can’t wait to see her again, it’s been so _long_ – ”

Midorima’s sister is not _exactly_ what Midorima would describe as “sweet,” and in fact, she can be a little devious and even _very_ bitchy, but she’s Midorima’s sister and he _loves_ her so all this is very nice of Kise to say, if only for that.

“This is going to sound stupid, but I don’t mean this to look like I’m bringing just a _friend_ to my sister’s wedding,” Midorima says. He can hear the way his voice sounds and he thinks it sounds _idiotic_ , but he’s in too deep now to stop. “I kind of need my parents to think I brought someone as a _romantic_ thing.”

“So, what, you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend, or something?” Kise says. He doesn’t sound accusing at all, mostly curious. That wasn’t what Midorima had been expecting, but it is just exactly like Kise.

“Uh, well, when you say it like that – ” Midorima stammers, trying to think of another way to explain it. He gives up. “Yes. Yes, I want you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Kise laughs. “Alright, Midorimacchi,” he says. “I can do that.

“Really?”

“Yeah. When’s the wedding?”

 

***

 

Midorima stands from the table where he has been sitting next to his mother, a few seats down from his sister and her new husband, and immediately seeks out Kise. Midorima adjusts his tux a little as he heads toward the spot a few meters away where Kise is talking to some person Midorima has never seen before – someone the groom knows, probably. Kise looks fantastic tonight, in a well-tailored suit and oozing charm even more than usual.

“Ah!” Kise says, smile wide and voice amiable, to the person he’s talking to as Midorima walks up. “This is who I’m here with, the bride’s brother. Midorima, have you ever met Yamamoto-san before?”

“I don’t believe we have,” Midorima says, and he offers the person his hand. They shake it, and Midorima stands back to watch Kise do what he does best. Midorima almost hates that Kise is so good at this, at socializing and charming people and saying just the right thing and being attractive and so many other things; but he has to admit, it does make things easier sometimes.

“Kise,” Midorima says in Kise’s ear after a few moments.

“Oh, I should pay my respects to the bride!” Kise says. “It was nice to meet you, Yamamoto-san, really…”

It takes another minute or two to actually drag Kise away from socializing with one person to get him to socialize with others.

Midorima stands in front of the long table where his parents and his sister and his sister’s new husband are sitting, the remains of dinner on their plates.

“This is my date,” Midorima explains. “I hope you remember Kise?”

“No matter how many times I tell him to call me Ryouta, he still does this kind of thing,” Kise says. He’s beaming, probably for the sake of Midorima’s parents and sister. Midorima tries not to wince. Kise _had_ told him to call him by his given name, a lot of times, and it actually seemed important that he do it in this context – they were supposed to be _dating_ , after all.

“Oh, Kise-kun!” Midorima’s mother says warmly. She’s always been much less distant than Midorima’s father and Midorima himself. It was a trait his sister had inherited, and she had ended up leaving Midorima in the dust, socially. “Of course I remember you, you were over all the time when you and Shintarou-chan were in school together. You and the other boys from the basketball team.”

Kise grins. “Those were the days! We were so young back then.”

“Are you two dating now?” Midorima’s mother asks. “I always thought he might have a thing for you, Ryouta-kun, even before we knew.” _Before we knew he was gay,_ she means. Strictly speaking, that wasn’t true, that he was gay – it’s just that girls don’t really like him, and even though he finds them attractive, Midorima could never see himself in a relationship with a girl. So that was what he’d told them, that he was gay, because for all intents and purposes, it was true.

“It’s good to see you, Ryouta-kun!” Midorima’s sister says.

“Ah, you look so beautiful, Yui!” Kise gushes, turning his attention on her. He takes her hands from across the table. Since when have they been good friends? Well, Midorima supposes he shouldn’t be so confused. Kise was instantly good friends with pretty much everyone he meets. “Congratulations! I’m so glad I got to come, you were always my favorite of my friends’ siblings.”

“Stop,” Yui says, but she’s beaming at the compliment.

Kise turns to her husband. “And congratulations to you, too, sir,” he says. He shakes the husband’s hand eagerly. “You’re very lucky to have such a smart, pretty young lady for your wife.”

Midorima resists the urge to roll his eyes. Kise has always been a charmer, and Midorima knows that if _he_ had said the things Kise usually said, it would have only been uncomfortable. But it _works_. Kise endears people to him almost automatically, as if it’s a matter of course. Midorima has tried since he was small to get people to like him, but they mostly tended to keep him at arm’s distance, and Midorima has done the same in turn. Really, it’s good that Kise is as charming as he is; it certainly makes the task tonight easier.

“Would you like some more champagne, Midorima-san?” Kise says, his attention directed to Midorima’s mother. “I was about to get some more myself.”

“Sure,” his mother says. Kise nods and wanders off through the tables towards the bar.

“I’m glad you didn’t come alone, Shintarou,” his sister comments as soon as Kise is out of earshot.

“Thanks,” Midorima says, the assumption that he’d be alone rankling him.

“You should bring your boyfriend for dinner soon,” Midorima’s mother says. “I always liked him, you know. He’s so handsome, and so nice.”

 _Fuck_. She definitely thinks Kise is his boyfriend. Which, he supposes, had been the point, but Midorima had meant only to temporarily allay their fears that Midorima would end up alone forever. He hadn’t taken into account the effect Kise could have when he had his charm turned up on high. “Alright,” he says.

Midorima greets and talks with several family members, a few childhood friends of Yui’s, some family friends. Most of the time, Kise is with him, touching his arm and now and then leaning in close to speak in Midorima’s ear. Midorima introduces him as his date, just his date, but Midorima knows people are going to think they’re really together. It’s an uncomfortable deception, but it has to serve for the night. At least Kise plays his part well.

“Onii-san, we’re taking pictures!” Midorima’s sister calls, on the arm of her new husband. “Bring Ryouta-san!”

Pictures. Midorima has never been what he (or maybe anyone) would call photogenic. Kise is likely to upstage him in absolutely every way. Midorima tries to stifle a sigh and moves towards his sister.

They take pictures of the wedding party first, of the bride and groom surrounded by their bridesmaids and groomsmen and both of their parents. Midorima bears it in silence, and tries to smile. Kise watches with a grin on his face until the photographer tells them they’re going to take some more _individual_ pictures. That, Midorima supposes, means they’ll want pictures of Midorima with his date, with _Kise._ Kise hangs on his arm, beaming from ear to ear, and the photographer’s camera travels over the wedding party and their dates.

“This is stupid,” Midorima says through clenched teeth, trying to make sure his sister doesn’t notice him complaining.

“Just have fun with it, Midorimacchi,” Kise says.

“I can’t have fun with it,” Midorima says. “It is inherently _not fun_. I am so bad at pictures. We can’t all be like _you_.”

“Oh, stop,” Kise admonishes. Midorima shrugs.

The photographer is near them, and he motions for the two of them to get in frame together. Kise eagerly obliges. “Come here,” he says to Midorima. He puts his hands gently on the side of Midorima’s face and presses his lips to Midorima’s. It takes Midorima by surprise, but he relaxes into it immediately. The kiss is slow and sweet, practically chaste for what Midorima has always imagined Kise would kiss like (and compared to how Midorima has seen Kise kiss other people in the past). It feels so _genuine,_ so perfect and right that for a moment Midorima forgets that this isn’t real. But then Midorima hears the click of the camera and knows he is _fucked_ , not just for the moment, but for _forever_. That picture of him kissing Kise is going to show up in his sister’s wedding album, to be looked at by every family member they have ever had, including the children she hasn’t yet had, and even her fucking _grandchildren_ , probably. He resists the urge to leap away from Kise’s touch out of embarrassment, but he has _appearances_ to keep up. Kise is still kissing him, his fingertips warm on Midorima’s skin. He pulls away only a second or two later, the perfect length for a kiss – Kise’s innate sense of theatrics at work, Midorima has no doubt. Midorima’s heart is pounding so loudly in his chest he thinks everyone around him will be able to hear it.

Kise is smiling softly at him when Midorima looks at him, but the moment passes quickly. Kise has shifted into photo mode, and he poses next to Midorima for the next series of pictures. Midorima catches sight of his mother, smiling at him near some of the groomsmen, and even his father doesn’t seem as somber as usual.

When the pictures are over, the DJ announces that they’ll have the first dance soon. Midorima watches his sister’s first dance with her husband with tears in his eyes. Kise nudges him, to comfort him. The tears are of happiness, and he is happy for his sister, _supremely_ happy. Midorima smiles faintly at Kise to allay any fears he may have and wipes a tear away from his eye with a careful hand under his glasses.

“Dance with me, Midorimacchi,” Kise says, once this first dance and Yui’s dance with their father are finished and the DJ is playing songs for everyone else to dance to as well.

Midorima has never been much of a dancer, but Kise always has been, so Midorima indulges him. They dance to a couple of songs, the fun, fast type, and Midorima mostly just watches the happy expression on Kise’s face, watching locks of his hair trail over his face as he flips his head this way and that, watching the way his hips move.

The song turns slow and Midorima instinctively draws close and puts a hand on Kise’s waist. Kise responds in kind, putting a hand on Midorima’s shoulder.

“That kiss wasn’t part of the plan,” Midorima mutters in Kise’s ear.

Kise looks up at Midorima, eyeliner-rimmed eyes sly. “You wanted acting, you’re getting _acting_ ,” Kise says. “Enjoy yourself. Your sister is married now.”

Midorima’s hand is on Kise’s waist and Midorima thinks about how if his fifteen-year-old self could see him now, he’d be bursting with pride. Midorima had been a little in love with Kise back then. He’d almost forgotten about it now, since it had been so long, but it still lingers. He can feel it in the way his skin is burning and his heart beats with exhilaration, even though it’s just a ruse, just Midorima bringing him to his sister’s wedding because he couldn’t bear to be alone.

“Does it upset you?” Kise asks. For a moment, Midorima doesn’t know what he means, if he’s still talking about the kiss or something, until he continues. “Her being married, I mean.”

“No,” Midorima says, and it’s the truth. He’s intensely protective of his sister, because she’s probably actually his best friend in the whole world, but the fact that she’s married now doesn’t change any of that. “No, it doesn’t bother me at all.”

At the end of the song, Midorima excuses himself, saying he should find his sister and dance with her. Kise nods and Midorima weaves through the bodies of other guests until he finds her, dancing with an uncle of theirs. He sees Midorima coming before she does, and passes her to him without qualms.

“Hey,” he says. Yui puts her hand on his and he lets his hand rest on her hip.

“Hi,” she says. She’s grinning, like she has been all night. She’s always smiled more than him, though. It’s just a personality difference.

“So, you and Ryouta, huh?” Yui says.

“Yeah,” Midorima says. “I guess so.”

“You two seem happy,” she says. “It’s good. I just want you to be happy.”

“ _You’re_ the one that just got married,” Midorima protests.

She waves a hand dismissively and grins at him. He smiles back. She’s always been one of the only people who can make him smile this much.

“Don’t fuck it up, okay?” It’s not like that kind of speech is out of the ordinary for her, but it feels weird to hear her swear when she looks like this, her hair done up and her makeup still flawless and her dress perfectly white. She really does look beautiful. He’s glad she got to have this day.

“I won’t,” Midorima says, before he really realizes what he’s saying. “I won’t fuck it up.” Immediately after he says these words, he feels guilty. He’s lying to her, to his mom and dad and everyone else, and it hurts a little to do it. It’s not possible for him to fuck it up. It’s not even real.

“You’ve been a sad little boy since you were, like, twelve,” Yui continues. Ah, _there_ it is. That mean streak of hers. “You’ve always been so serious. I’m glad you’re finally getting your shit together.”

“Thanks,” Midorima says sarcastically. His sister shakes her head at him, and smiles. Midorima smiles back. The song is at its climax, and she leans forward and wraps her arms around him properly.

“You’re the best big brother, you know?” she says, hugging him tight.

“You’re the best sister,” Midorima answers. He squeezes his arms around her shoulders and the song finally ends.

“Go dance with Ryouta,” she tells him. “We’re cutting cake in a couple songs!” She leaves him in the middle of the dance floor, going off to find her husband. Midorima watches her go for a minute before he goes to find Kise again.

The wedding reception is fun, even Midorima has to admit. Midorima passes Kise what’s slice of cake that had been too big for him to finish, and Kise laughs and talks with all of Midorima’s acquaintances and family members. Midorima watches him the whole time. He almost thinks he wouldn’t rather have anyone else at his side for this, not even some hypothetical boyfriend, because there’s something even more enchanting than usual about Kise as he is tonight, in his element like this. Kise smiles at him often and makes a great show of casually holding Midorima’s hand. At the end of the night, Midorima drives Kise back to his apartment, the lights of the city at night zipping past as they go.

“Good night, Midorimacchi,” Kise says. For an instant, Midorima thinks he might kiss him again, even thinks he sees Kise lean forward a little – but it must be a trick of the light. “I had a lot of fun.”

“Um, Kise,” Midorima says as Kise reaches for the handle of the car door. “Maybe this is asking too much, but. My parents wanted to have you for dinner next week, and I can’t really – I can’t really say _no_ , so – ”

Kise’s lips twitch up into an almost-smile. “Sure,” he says. “I can help you play your game a little longer.”

Midorima is relieved. After this dinner, it’s over, he swears. He’ll tell his parents they broke up, that it just didn’t work out, a month or two from now when it’s not so fresh in their minds. For now, he just needs them to believe it. They’d made it through the whole wedding, after all. Kise climbs out of Midorima’s car without another word. He waves to Midorima with a smile through the window, and adjusts his suit as he turns away to head to the front steps of his apartment building. The motion he makes, the short tug at the hem of his suit jacket, is surprisingly attractive. But that was the thing about Kise. He made little things look like the hottest thing in the world. He was a model, after all. Midorima makes sure Kise is safely inside before pulling away and heading home.

 

***  


Midorima’s mother greets Kise more enthusiastically when she opens the door than she does her own son.

“Ryouta-kun! We’re so glad you could come,” she gushes. “It’s so nice to have you around again. I hope Shintarou-chan has been good lately.”

“He’s been good,” Kise says, smiling. He hugs Midorima’s mother – which, was that really something Kise could do? Midorima hasn’t even hugged her _himself_ yet – and then shakes his father’s hand.

“Well, come in, come in,” Midorima’s mother says, beckoning them inside. Midorima gives his mother a kiss on the cheek as they take off their shoes before entering the house proper.

It’s working a little too well, Midorima thinks, and he considers telling Kise that, to maybe get him to tone it down a bit, but he doesn’t say anything. Kise is charming enough to get even Midorima’s father to talk, though his mother shouts a lot of conversation to them from the kitchen as she cooks.

When they sit down to eat, Kise compliments the meal, and Midorima’s mother brushes off the praise with a blush and a dismissing wave of her hand, but Kise insists. That’s something Midorima knows his mother will like – not that he really needs his mother falling in love with Kise, though. This is all supposed to be fake. Midorima almost wishes Kise wouldn’t try so hard to make it feel real.

They eat and Midorima talks to his parents, but Kise talks more. He’s always had more to say than Midorima. Midorima would never admit it to him or anyone else, but it’s a relief, knowing that at least someone knows what to say.

“Excuse me,” Kise says, at one point, taking his leave to go to the bathroom.

“Are you happy with him?” Midorima’s mother says, as soon as she hears the door of the bathroom close.

This catches Midorima off-guard. “Hmm? Oh. Yeah.”

“We’re really very happy you have him.”

“Um, thanks.”

“We sort of thought you were going to end up with someone a little less… well…” his mother says. “A little more _utilitarian_ ,” she finishes diplomatically.

Midorima buries his face in his hands. “What does that even _mean_ ,” he groans.

“You know. We thought you’d settle for someone a little less attractive.”

“I didn’t want to _actually know!_ ” Midorima tells her. “And thanks for thinking so _highly_ of me.”

His mother shrugs. “It’s the way you’ve always been.”

Midorima knows she’s right. If it weren’t for Kise Ryouta, he would have thought that was his _type_ , someone a little more in his league, maybe smart enough to keep up with him and maybe someone who wasn’t so shit at doing laundry. But he knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that what he actually wants is Kise.

The realization hits him and it feels like an elbow accidentally thrown to the stomach in all those basketball games he and Kise had played years ago. He doesn’t want to be _fake_ dating Kise. He wants it to _mean_ something.

“Please don’t mess this up,” Midorima’s father says. The suddenness of that comment from his usually stoic father almost makes Midorima jump. If he’d had to guess, he would have said his dad probably didn’t care about any of this, that his mom was the one doing all the worrying, but to be proven wrong about that is a little shocking.

“I – ” Midorima stammers in response, looking at his father incredulously. “I won’t.”

“What are we talking about?” Kise asks as he walks into the room, that charming smile on his face.

“Oh, Ryouta-kun, we were just telling Shintarou-chan to treat you right,” Midorima’s mother says.

Kise glances at Midorima. “I’ll make sure he does,” Kise says. The guilt drags at Midorima, and he hopes it doesn’t show on his face. Kise sits between him and his mother and Midorima wants to apologize, again and again, for forcing Kise into this. Kise takes Midorima by the hand, holding it in his lap, their fingers interlaced. Midorima’s heart pounds and he listens to Kise make all the appropriate reactions to his mother’s gossip and he tries to grapple with all those middle school feelings for Kise that are bubbling up again, but he can’t seem to get them under control.

 

***  


“I’ve been hearing about your boyfriend,” Takao says. He has the food he’d been chewing pushed to one side of his mouth so he can speak. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

They’re at their favorite café, where the two of them meet for lunch three days a week on their lunch breaks – Takao from work, Midorima from classes at his university. They are regulars for lunch here, and the two of them are on first-name terms with most of the waitresses and the owner. They’ve stayed good friends since high school, and lunches with Takao are a nice break from the other things in Midorima’s life. Though, at the moment, Midorima is uncomfortable. He purposefully hadn’t told Takao about Kise – it wasn’t relevant, and Midorima is certain Takao would have talked him out of the whole scheme if he’d known about it beforehand.

“Who told you?” Midorima says, frowning.

“Your mom did,” Takao says after swallowing the bite in his mouth. “Kise Ryouta, huh?”

“I didn’t know you talked to my mom,” Midorima says, ignoring Takao’s questions.

“Well I do,” Takao says. “Seriously, Shin-chan, you’ve liked Kise since like, middle school. It’s awesome you guys finally got together.”

“Takao, we’re not actually dating,” Midorima corrects.

Takao almost spits out the noodles in his mouth. He swallows roughly, then chokes out, “ _What?_ ”

Midorima shrugs. “I needed a plus-one for my sister’s wedding, and it just kind of got out of hand,” he admits.

Takao narrows his eyes. “Your mom said there was a cute picture of the two of you _kissing_ ,” he protests.

“I _said_ it got out of hand,” Midorima defends.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Shin-chan,” Takao says. He sits back in his chair with his arms folded over his chest.

Midorima winces internally. Takao has always been blunt in telling Midorima about himself, and it makes it worse that he’s usually right. Midorima _is_ an idiot. He should never have thought this whole pretend-dating thing would work out in the first place.

“I didn’t have any other _options_ ,” Midorima says weakly.

Takao’s brow is furrowed. “You could have just asked him out for _real_ ,” Takao says. “You could have just gone to the wedding alone instead of leading everyone on, you sack of shit.”

“Hey, now,” Midorima says, protesting against the insult.

“You’re lying to everyone, you know,” Takao says. He stabs his chopsticks into what’s left of his noodles. “Including yourself.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?”

“How about you grow the fuck up, Midorima Shintarou?” Takao says. “Just ask him out for dinner. It’s not that fucking hard.”

Midorima doesn’t say anything. What is there to say? Takao is right. He’s an idiot for not _actually_ dating Kise.

“Ah, shit,” Takao says, glancing at his watch. “I need to get back to work. If you aren’t dating that boy for _real_ by the next time I see you, I’m going to punch you in the mouth. And I mean it.”

The worst part is, Midorima knows he does. He _does_ mean it. He watches Takao leave, waving to the owner behind the counter of the café. Takao’s words ring in his ears. _It’s not that fucking hard_. Just ask him out. Just ask Kise Ryouta, probably the most attractive person on the planet, on a real date. It seems impossible. Midorima closes his eyes and sighs. He _has_ to do it.

_How about you grow the fuck up, Midorima Shintarou._

 

***  


“Hello?”

It’s Kise’s voice on the other side of the phone. Midorima grips his cell phone so hard that it digs painfully into his fingertips.

“Kise, it’s me,” Midorima says.

“I know,” Kise says. “I can see your name when you call, you know.”

“Ki – Kise,” Midorima stammers. “I was wondering…”

“I’ve told you to call me ‘Ryouta’ so many times, I’ve literally lost count,” Kise interrupts.

Midorima takes a deep breath and tries again. “ _Ryouta._ Do you want to, uh, go to dinner with me.”

There’s a short silence. “Who are we trying to impress now?” Kise asks.

“No one.”

The silence is much longer this time. “Really?” Kise says, finally breaking it.

“Really.”

“Okay, Shintarou. Pick me up tomorrow at eight.”

 

***

 

The dinner would have been boring, if Kise was anyone else. But Kise has always been a gifted storyteller, and he manages to make a story about killing a spider in his apartment funny enough to get even Midorima to laugh; Midorima, who would have probably agreed with someone’s assessment if they told him his lack of sense of humor was _terminal_.

Kise looks good, as usual, a cardigan that hugs the contours of his shoulders and a tight shirt underneath. The neckline of the shirt dips low enough for Midorima’s eyes to trace his collarbone. There’s a candle on the table – cliché, Midorima thinks, but it’s not like he can do anything about it – and the light the small flame casts is just enough to make the gold of his hair really stand out. In short, he’s incredible. Midorima has never wanted to kiss a person so badly in his life.

 _God damn it_ , Midorima thinks. Midorima had been a little in love with Kise once, back in middle school, but how he felt now made _that_ look like _nothing._ When you’re in middle school you don’t have these kinds of fantasies, ones where the object of your affections bends you over and – Midorima shakes his head to clear it. He shouldn’t be thinking like that at dinner with Kise.

Kise takes a sip from the glass of wine he’s holding. It’s a dry red, a little more expensive than Midorima would have liked, but he supposes he owes it to Kise after all he’s put him through. The color of the wine stays a little on Kise’s lips, turning them a little darker red than they usually are. “Shintarou, you’re staring,” Kise says.

Midorima jerks his eyes away. “Sorry,” he says. Kise smiles faintly and watches Midorima over the rim of his wine glass.

After dinner, Kise lets him pay. That, too, he figures he owes Kise. He feels guilty after what he asked Kise to do. _Or you could have just asked him out for real._ Takao’s words in his head again, telling him he’d fucked up. Well, he’d been stupid, but he couldn’t help it now. All he could do was try to make it up to him; try to ask Kise to agree to date him for real. The date had been a good start – or, you know, it would have been, if they hadn’t already kissed at his sister’s wedding and had dinner with Midorima’s parents, as if they’d been dating for months already.

“I had a good time,” Kise says, in the car back to his apartment. “I like spending time with you, Midorimacchi.”

“Me too,” Midorima says. He wants to say something more, to apologize, to explain how he feels, but he can’t find the words. He’s never been able to, not in ten years.

Midorima parks the car in front of Kise’s apartment. He remembers not kissing him in the car

“Hey, Kise, wait,” Midorima says.

“I told you to call me by my given name,” Kise says, turning to look at him as he jogs around the car towards him. “We’ve known each other long enough to be at that point.” Midorima thinks that’s not exactly fair, since Kise still calls him “Midorimacchi” after all these years. But, he supposes, that’s really more of a _nickname_ , and as many times as he’s told Kise not to use it, he’d be crushed if he ever actually did stop calling him that.

“Ryouta,” Midorima says. He stops in front of Kise. Now that he’s here, he doesn’t know what to do. Of course, he wants to kiss Kise, but he doesn’t really know where to start. People usually kiss him first, if they kiss him at all, and Midorima is probably point-blank _bad_ at initiating kisses. He’s kind of an awkward person, and he can admit that to himself.

“Let me guess,” Kise says. He’s smiling; but then, he usually is. “You want a goodnight kiss.”

“I – ” Midorima starts.

Kise kisses him, almost like the kiss at the wedding, only a little more insistent this time. Kise’s lips are soft, and they press firmly against his own. Midorima kisses him back. He want to kiss him _more_ , to part Kise’s lips and kiss him deeply, to _really_ know what he tastes like – but he doesn’t.

“I should go,” Midorima says, after Kise pulls back from the kiss.

“Do you want to come up for tea?” Kise asks, ignoring him.

“I try not to drink caffeine so late.”

Kise looks at him with a blank expression. “You just don’t fucking get it, do you.”

This takes Midorima off-guard. “What?” he asks.

Kise rolls his eyes. “I _like_ you. I want to be with you, Midorimacchi. _I am not inviting you up for tea._ ”

“Oh,” Midorima says.

“Do you think someone who wasn’t interested in you would agree to fake date you,” Kise says, his eyebrows knitting. “Like. Are you stupid? I want to _for real_ date you.”

“I – ” Midorima says. “I want to for real date you, too.”

“I know that, idiot!” Kise says. “Someone doesn’t propose to fake-date you if they don’t mean it, just a little bit. The only person not on board with all this is you. I’ve even got your _mother_ in on it.”

“In on it?” Midorima says weakly, hoping that doesn’t mean his mother knows that he’s been faking this whole time.

“Well, she thinks we’re dating, right?” Kise says. “She told me to _take care of you_. Do you know what that feels like, knowing it’s not actually your _job_ to take care of someone even though everyone else thinks it is, just because the person you care about thinks it’s not real?”

“‘Care about,’” Midorima repeats, a little in shock.

“Yeah, I care about you,” Kise says. “A lot. So _please_ , come upstairs, and let me do the things to you that I’ve wanted to do for years.”

 _For years._ In his wildest dreams, Midorima would never have imagined that Kise had liked him back in high school. Kise Ryouta is inviting him upstairs, for not-tea, which Midorima can only guess means…

“Okay,” Midorima says. “Yes. Please. Let’s go.”

A grin spreads slowly across Kise’s face. “Okay,” he says. He leads Midorima up the stairs to his apartment, his hand gripping Midorima’s. Kise pulls Midorima into his apartment and locks the door after them.

“Do you really want to do this?” Midorima asks. “I mean, I’m – ”

“Midorimacchi, I _want_ you,” Kise says. “Please believe that, at least.”

“I’ve just – I’ve been awful to you,” Midorima admits. “Really, really awful. Thank you for putting up with me.”

Kise laughs, and a little of Midorima’s anxiety dissolves. “Maybe you’re a _little_ awful, but I still like you a _lot_.”

Kise grabs Midorima’s tie and pulls it, tugging Midorima’s head down so he doesn’t have to lean up to kiss him. This time, the kiss is hot and insistent, with Kise licking at Midorima’s bottom lip, and Midorima parts his lips to let their tongues meet. It almost takes his breath away, kissing Kise like this. It’s a dream, one he’s had since he was practically a _kid_. Midorima pulls Kise closer to him with his hands at Kise’s waist. Kise smiles against Midorima’s mouth at Midorima’s sudden enthusiasm.

Only a few seconds later, Kise pulls back from the kiss. “I can’t believe you didn’t think I wanted you,” Kise says. He reaches up and undoes the buttons of Midorima’s shirt with practiced fingers. “Don’t you remember that time in high school, when I practically confessed _naked?_ ”

Midorima frowns. He definitely remembers the incident in question, but… “I didn’t realize that was supposed to be a confession,” he says.

“Literally how dumb _are_ you?” Kise says, leaning his head back to study Midorima’s expression. His fingers pause at the button right above Midorima’s navel. “Aren’t you a medical student?”

“I’m not good with _people_ ,” Midorima says desperately. His grip on Kise’s waist tightens a little, frustrated at the realization that he had fucked up, often and with remarkable stupidity. The idea that it might be _his_ fault that he and Kise had never gotten together, well… it was probably true, but it stung all the same.

“You might be in the wrong profession, Midorimacchi,” Kise says, shaking his head. “What about all those times I texted you at three in the morning? They all said ‘heyyyyy,’ all drawn-out like that. They were very obvious.”

“I didn’t – it wasn’t _that_ obvious,” Midorima stammers defensively. How was he supposed to know something like that meant a person liked you? What an absurd idea.

Kise rolls his eyes. “Well, I never realized I had to spell things out for you so much! You’re _impossible_.”

“I know,” Midorima says. Mostly, he just wants Kise to stop talking and just _kiss_ him again. Kise finishes undoing all the buttons on his shirt, and slips his hands under the fabric with a triumphant smirk on his face. The feeling of Kise’s hands on his bare skin almost makes him gasp. Kise’s hands travel from his stomach and across his ribs to his chest.

“Mm,” Kise mutters in appreciation. “My bedroom is down the hall.”

Kise’s bedroom. Midorima at fifteen years old would have _died_ to get into Kise’s bedroom – well, actually, Midorima had been in Kise’s bedroom many times when they were younger, but never in this _context_. Kise squirms out of Midorima’s grasp to lead him to the bedroom.

Distracted as they are by kissing as they move into Kise’s room, Kise lets his bedroom door slam shut behind them. “Whoops,” he says, as Midorima flinches from the loud sound.

Kise presses Midorima down onto the bed, then throws his legs over him. The wet sounds of their mouths against each others are the only ones in the room.

When Kise has stripped off his cardigan and the shirt underneath it, he balls them up together. He tosses the bundle backwards at the hamper behind him. They make it, but not entirely; his clothes drape over the edge of the basket. Arguably a point, though it would have been touch-and-go in an actual game, an uncertain shot around the rim.

Midorima clicks his tongue against his teeth. “ _Please_ ,” he says. He pulls his own shirt off, wads it into a ball, and shoots it like a three-pointer. He hasn’t done that in _years_. He smirks as it sinks directly into the hamper, even without practice.

“That’s not fair,” Kise says, watching it sink in. “I did my shot behind my back!”

“It’s all about the points, Kise,” Midorima says. He pushes up his glasses. “It always has been.”

Kise looks at him for a second, no doubt thinking how much that moment had reminded him of the way they had been back in high school. “You’re a fucking child,” Kise says, but the corners of his mouth are turned up, like he’s trying to hide a smile. Midorima smiles at him – now _that’s_ something he never did much as a teenager, smiling. He was always much too proud.

Kise kisses Midorima again, arms wrapped around the back of his neck, and grinds his hips against Midorima’s. Midorima groans at this. It feels good, but it’s nowhere near enough. He fumbles with Kise’s belt, his hands between the two of their bodies.

“Don’t bother with the belt,” Kise says. “It’s not holding anything up. Just for fashion.”

Typical of Kise, that. Midorima moves his fingers to unbutton the dark, tight jeans Kise is wearing. He slips his hands under the now-loose waist of the jeans, under the waistband of Kise’s boxers, his hands pressed tight to the skin of Kise’s ass by the tightness of the jeans. Kise gives another long, languid grind against Midorima. They kiss with Midorima sucking at Kise’s bottom lip and Kise pushing his tongue into Midorima’s mouth and their breath huffing hot against each other’s.

They stay like that for a little while, with Midorima’s hands in Kise’s pants and Kise’s hands touching everywhere on Midorima’s bare chest. “If you’re going to take them off, then do it already,” Kise says. Kise’s words startle Midorima out of the euphoria of the moment. Midorima hooks his thumbs around the top of the jeans and the underwear together and pushes them down past Kise’s ass to about his mid-thigh. Kise sits up. Midorima can’t manage to contain his sharp intake of breath. Kise’s cock is mostly hard and now bare as Kise pushes his pants down over his knees, then kicks them off.

Kise’s cock is bigger than Midorima had expected, an inch or two more than average – but, of course, Midorima doesn’t mind, even though he knows he’s going to have all of it inside him soon enough. The tip of it is rosy pink and it curves up just slightly. It’s actually cute, as far as penises go. It fits Kise exactly.

“You’re staring,” Kise comments.

“You look really good,” Midorima says, tearing his eyes away to look up at Kise’s face. He’s smiling, his expression half way between flattered and wicked. “Really. God, you’re cute…”

“Your turn,” Kise says. He bends and quickly undoes Midorima’s belt and the button of his pants. With a sly look up at Midorima, Kise curls his fingers around the fabric and pulls Midorima’s pants and underwear down around his knees.

Midorima has hardly managed to kick off his pants before Kise has his hand on Midorima’s cock. “Ah!” Midorima says, surprised. “Ohh…”

“You have a nice cock, Midorimacchi,” Kise says. He sidles up close to Midorima again. Kissing him feels a little different now, their bare skin pressed to each other’s along the length of their bodies. This time, when Kise grinds his hips against Midorima’s, their dicks rub against each other. “Ahh, yeah…” Kise murmurs. “Feels good, right?”

Midorima nods. His heart thuds in his chest. This is really happening; he’s really having sex with Kise Ryouta. It’s incredible.

“Hey,” Kise says, “Take off your glasses.”

Midorima obliges, carefully depositing his glasses on Kise’s nightstand, then lies back again. If he squints a little, he can see Kise’s face fairly clear above him. Even when he doesn’t, though, he can see the grin on Kise’s face.

Kise presses kisses along Midorima’s jaw and down his neck. Midorima’s hands cling to Kise’s hips.

“Ryouta,” Midorima says.

“Hmm?”

“I want – could you – _would_ you – ” Midorima stammers. “I want you to, uh. Would you, maybe – ”

“Spit it out already.”

Midorima swallows, then blurts out, “Fuck me.”

“What?” Kise says, a look of confusion springing to his face.

“I want you to fuck me!” Midorima says, his cheeks burning hot with blood.

Kise motions to the two of them, lying naked on Kise’s bed. “I intend to?” he says, confused. “I’m not sure exactly what you mean.”

“No, no, I want you to – well – I want – ” He really has no idea how to say this tactfully, so he simply takes a quick breath and says, “Ryouta, put your dick in me, I’m fucking _begging_ you, just please, _please_ , do it already. Fuck me. I want you to _fuck_ me.”

Kise gasps a bit, a sharp intake of breath through his teeth, a reaction of surprise. “Really?” Kise says, incredulously. “I expected you to want to _top_. I guess I misjudged you.”

It’s odd, because Midorima thinks this is the very first time that Kise has misjudged anything about him, ever. “I know. I know, just, _please._ I’ve wanted you to fuck me since I was, like, thirteen years old.”

“You’re the weirdest dirty talker I’ve ever heard in my whole life,” Kise tells him. “I’ve never heard someone try so hard to talk and then say such dirty things.”

“Please shut up,” Midorima says.

Kise smiles. “Alright, Midorimacchi,” he says. “If that’s what you want, I’ll fuck you.”

Kise kisses him again and reaches over to open the drawer of the nightstand. He roots around in it, a little clumsily since he’s not looking and his lips are still pressed to Midorima’s, but eventually he pulls out a small bottle. It’s lube. Kise opens the top with one hand before sitting up. Midorima’s lips chase Kise’s on instinct as he pulls away.

The sight of Kise squeezing lube onto his fingers is not one Midorima had expected he would ever see in real life. He makes a great show of it, of course, like he does with everything. He tosses the bottle away to the other side of the bed before reaching his fingers down between Midorima’s legs. The lube hasn’t yet warmed up yet, even sitting as it is on Kise’s fingers, and Midorima shivers as Kise’s fingers press against his asshole.

“Sorry, Midorimacchi,” Kise says. “Cold, I know. Ready?”

“I’ve been ready for ten years, Ryouta.”

Kise gives a short bark of laughter and pushes one finger into Midorima. Midorima moans low in his throat. Kise’s finger rubs along Midorima’s walls and Midorima relaxes himself, desperate for more already. Kise picks up on this desire of Midorima’s and adds another finger, stretching him open a little more.

“You move quick, don’t you?” Kise asks. “How much sex have you been having, exactly?”

“It’s been – _ahh_ – it’s been kind of a long time,” Midorima confesses. Kise crooks his fingers a little bit, rubbing against Midorima’s prostate. Midorima’s hips writhe closer to Kise’s hand, begging for more of the sensation.

Kise whistles, impressed. “If this is what you’re like after it’s been a while, I’m excited to see what you’re like when you’re having sex more often.” Kise says it like he’s definitely going to be the one who makes that happen. It thrills Midorima. He bucks his hips forwards, trying to force Kise’s fingers in deeper.

“Hey, take your time, yeah?” Kise says. He pulls his fingers out a little and Midorima resists the urge to whimper. Kise spreads the fingers inside Midorima open a little bit, stretching Midorima’s hole, getting him ready for an eventual third finger. At this, Midorima groans. “You’re really so cute, Midorimacchi.”

“Don’t – don’t call me ‘Midorimacchi,’” Midorima pants, out of breath from the quick, fast breaths he’d been taking in his arousal. “My – my given name, call me by my given name…”

“ _Shintarou_ ,” Kise corrects himself. It feels good, _right_ , for Kise to call him that. He so rarely did, even though they’re what amounts to childhood friends. It feels more intimate, now. Midorima moans his thanks and leans far forward to kiss Kise again.

Kise spreads his fingers wide enough to put in a third finger. Midorima cries out at the feeling when it finally slides into him. “You alright, Shintarou?” Kise asks, looking up at Midorima.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” Midorima gasps. “It just feels – ah – really good…”

Kise smiles. “Good,” he says. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

Midorima wriggles on the bed, hands gripping in Kise’s sheets, hips twitching for more and deeper sensation. Kise continues fingering him, Midorima’s eyes squeezed shut, for a few more minutes.

“Hey, Shintarou,” he says. Midorima opens one eye to look at him. “I like you. I like you a _lot._ ”

Kise’s voice is soft and sincere. It feels sort of strange, having someone confess their feelings with their fingers in your ass, but it makes Midorima melt anyway. “I like you, too,” he replies. He reaches up a hand and brings Kise’s face closer with his hand on Kise’s jaw, pulling him close to kiss him. It’s sweet and lingering and passionate, and Midorima has never wanted a person more.

Midorima breaks away from the kiss lies back against Kise’s pillows again. “I’m ready,” he says. Ready to take Kise’s cock, ready to fuck him, ready to _be_ fucked… Midorima’s legs spread a little wider in anticipation.

Kise doesn’t need to be told twice. He leans over and grabs a condom from the top drawer of his nightstand. He grabs the bottle of lube where it had lain forgotten in the sheets, then draws his fingers slowly out of Midorima. Midorima draws in a shaky breath to cope with the loss. Kise rolls the condom on, then squeezes some lube onto his palm and carefully applies it to his dick.

“Fuck, that _is_ pretty cold, huh?” Kise says, wincing a tiny bit at the feeling. Midorima watches him work his hand around his cock with lips parted. When he has gotten himself slick, Kise nudges closer to Midorima. He steadies his erection with a hand and pushes the head against Midorima’s hole.

“Mmn, _fuck_ me…” Midorima demands. Slowly, Kise pushes all the way into Midorima. Once he’s completely inside him, Kise leans over him, leaving only enough room between their bodies to work his hand on Midorima’s cock.

Midorima takes a shuddering breath. It’s been a long time since he last had sex, and it feels _fantastic_. He pushes himself closer to Kise, desperate for more. Kise gives several long, slow thrusts, making sure Midorima is used to it before speeding up his pace.

“A-ahh…” Midorma sighs. His hands tangle in Kise’s sheets, his hips rolling against Kise in time with Kise’s thrusts. Kise strokes Midorima’s cock and leans down to catch his lips in a kiss.

They fuck for a while, Kise touching Midorima and Midorima desperately kissing and sucking at every inch of Kise’s skin that he can reach. It feels good, it feels amazing, it feels _right_ , that the two of them have both been waiting a long time for this. Midorima almost wants to stay like this, let Kise fuck him until the two of them get off, but he wants…

“Ryouta, wait,” Midorima says. He grips Kise’s wrist tightly to get his attention.

“What’s going on, Midorimacchi?” Kise says. “Is something – ”

“Pull out,” Midorima demands. “I want to suck your cock.”

Kise’s eyes widen. “Did you just say – ”

“Yes, I did. _Please,_ let me suck your cock.”

“ _Shit_.”

Kise pulls out of Midorima and lets him sit up. Midorima stands from the bed and waits for Kise to take the condom off and throw it in the trash before sinking to his knees between Kise’s legs. He puts a hand at the base of Kise’s dick, steadying it, and takes a deep breath.

“Is this your first time sucking dick?” Kise asks. Midorima looks up at him under his eyelashes. It’s not the first time Midorima has done this, no. What, did Kise think he’d been waiting all these years, never having been touched, just for him? Ridiculous. “It’s cute. You don’t have to tell me, though.”

In the end, Midorima doesn’t answer. He flicks his tongue at the tip of Kise’s cock, teasing, looking up at Kise with a sly look in his eyes.

“Ohh,” Kise says. He’s smirking as he looks down at Midorima. “I don’t think this _is_ your first time.”

Midorima rolls his eyes. He takes Kise’s cock full in his mouth, lips over his teeth and applying gentle pressure with his tongue.

“Ohh… yeah, ahh…” Kise’s sighs are almost whimpers. He knots his fingers in the hair at the back of Midorima’s head. Kise’s hips twitch up a little, and Midorima can tell he’s trying not to fuck into Midorima’s mouth – trying not to gag him, most likely. In response, Midorima runs his tongue hard around the ridge of the head of Kise’s cock.

“Fuck! Yeah, like that, Shintacchi,” Kise cries out. His fingers clenching in Midorima’s hair pull hard in places. It hurts, but Midorima finds that he likes it. And what had he called him? _Shintacchi._ It feels good, hearing Kise use his given name with that endearing honorific. Kise deserves what he’s about to get, for that.

Midorima takes a deep breath – he’ll need it – and forces his head down to take all of Kise in his mouth. He can feel the tip of Kise’s cock pushing at the back of his throat, but he’d prepared himself for that. He resists the urge to gag and lets his tongue press hard against the base of Kise’s dick.

“Mmn!” Kise exclaims. His hand pushes at the back of Midorima’s head, keeping him in place. “Ah, ah…” Midorima opens one eye to look up at him. His head is laid back, the muscles in his neck and shoulders standing out.

Midorima isn’t going to gag, he _isn’t_. Involuntary tears form at the corners of his eyes, and he’s not sure how long he can keep that promise to himself. He can’t take it anymore. He chokes, then slowly pulls his mouth off Kise’s cock, pushing against Kise’s hand on his head. He sucks some of his own spit off Kise’s dick and takes a breath to collect himself.

Kise groans and tips Midorima’s face up with a hand on his chin, and bends low to kiss Midorima on the mouth. The kiss is hot and desperate, with Kise’s tongue licking deep and hard against Midorima’s. Through it all, Midorima keeps one hand slowly stroking Kise’s cock.

“You’re so hot, you know?” Kise says, centimeters from his lips, and Midorima can feel the warmth of Kise’s breath on his face. “I like you _so much_.”

Midorima thinks this is the first time anyone in existence has called him _hot_. Midorima bends his head and takes Kise’s cock in his mouth again, sucking and running his tongue hard along the underside of Kise’s erection.

“Hey,” Kise says. With a hand in the hair at the back of Midorima’s head, he pulls Midorima off his cock. He moves his hand to tip Midorima’s face up, gentle fingers on Midorima’s chin. “I want to fuck you.”

Kise moves back farther on the bed, a little away from Midorima. “Come here,” he says. There’s a look in his eyes that Midorima has rarely seen before – it’s devious and a little dark, but tinged with the smile on his face. Midorima stands. Kise grabs him by the wrist and pulls him closer, until Midorima climbs onto the bed and sits in Kise’s lap, straddling him.

Kise shakes his head. “No,” he says. “Turn around.”

“Wh – uh – ” Midorima stammers. “O-okay…” He stands again, and turns his back to Kise. Carefully, he sits back on Kise’s lap, with his back facing him this time, and Kise helps him move his legs until he’s kneeling. He sits back a little, until Kise stops him with a hand.

“Ready?” Kise asks. Midorima feels the tip of Kise’s cock press at his entrance again, and he moans in anticipation.

“Yeah,” Midorima replies.

Kise steadies his dick with one hand and uses the other to help Midorima sit back onto it.

“A-ahh,” Midorima sighs as Kise pushes all the way into him. He takes a moment to appreciate the feeling, but then starts to move. Midorima rocks his hips, riding him, chasing the sensation deeper. He moans and steadies himself with his hands on Kise’s knees.

“How do you like it, Shintacchi?” Kise says. “Are you having fun?”

“Ngh,” is the only thing Midorima manages to say. It feels good, of course. Kise fills him completely. For now, Midorima sets the pace; long and slow on the forward movement of his hips and the inward movement of Kise’s cock, shorter when he moves hips back to pull it out again.

Kise traces his fingers along the contours of Midorima’s body, stroking his shoulders and down his sides, curving his palms to touch the skin of Midorima’s waist, eventually coming to grip tightly at his hips. Midorima can feel his fingers on the bone of his pelvis, feeling the rocking of his hips, measuring it.

Once he has a feel for Midorima’s rhythm, Kise starts pushing himself in farther when Midorima has gotten him in on each thrust of his hips. Kise’s cock hits Midorima’s prostate over and over, making him cry out. He swallows against the saliva pooling in his mouth as a result of his arousal. Kise reaches a hand around and grips Midorima’s cock. “Hn… ah!” Midorima whimpers as Kise pumps his fist around his cock.

Kise is not quite as tall as Midorima and never has been, and with Midorima sitting on top of him like this, he can only manage to press kisses as far up as the bare skin of Midorima’s shoulders. His hand works slowly and steadily on Midorima’s cock, matching Midorima’s rhythm exactly. Well, he’s always been good at copying, after all.

“Hey, look at me, Shintacchi,” Kise says. Midorima cranes his neck to look back at Kise. Midorima’s breath huffs through parted lips and he can feel sweat beginning to bead on his skin. “You look so _sexy_. Really, really good…”

Midorima moans and faces forward again. He keeps himself steady with his hands gripping Kise’s thights. It’s getting hard for him to maintain the rhythm of his riding – he’s getting close to his orgasm, and his movements grow erratic. Kise takes over, though, fucking him with a perfect tempo.

“You getting close, Shintacchi?” Kise asks. His hand is still working at Midorima’s cock, drawing his orgasm out of him, slow and deep. “You’ve got a lot of pre-cum on your cock…”

“Yeah…” Midorima breathes. “Yeah, I’m close…”

“How close?”

“Mmn, ah, Ryouta, I’m going to _come_ …” Midorima pants. “Yeah, ahh, make me come, make me _come,_ I want it…”

With these words, Kise speeds up the pace of both his thrusting in Midorima’s ass and his hand rubbing along Midorima’s cock. Midorima’s breaths are shuddering and panting and quick and he feels the muscles of his core tense. The periphery of his body feels almost cold compared to the hot, hard feeling of his orgasm as it hits, squeezing a loud moan from him. His cum gushes over Kise’s hand and falls on the sheets between their legs. Midorima’s legs shake and he hangs his head with exhaustion as Kise continues fucking him, fingers rubbing on the oversensitive head of his dick. Midorima almost sobs, overwhelmed with the feeling.

“Ha ha!” Kise says triumphantly. “I _knew_ I could make you come first.”

“It’s not a race, Ryouta,” Midorima says. His hips move a little smoother now that he’s reached his release, and he rides Kise with renewed enthusiasm.

“Ah, I’m getting close too,” Kise says. His voice is low in Midorima’s ear, his chest pressed flush to Midorima’s back. “Can I come inside you, Shintacchi?”

“Please,” Midorima begs. “ _Please_ come inside me.”

Kise’s breathing behind him is shallow and tight and Kise fucks hard into him, pushing himself to his orgasm. He comes with a sigh, and Midorima can feel his load inside him. Midorima moans in appreciation of the feeling. Kise’s thrusts eventually slow to a halt. The two of them stay there for a moment, Midorima still in Kise’s lap, catching their breath.

“That was good,” Kise says. “That was _amazing_.”

Midorima turns his head back and looks down at him. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, it was.”

Kise presses a final kiss to Midorima’s shoulder, then taps the side of Midorima’s leg, indicating for him to get off. Midorima sits up, letting Kise pull out of him. He can feel some of Kise’s cum dribbling out now that Kise’s dick isn’t inside him to stop it from doing so.

“Oh, _wow_ ,” Kise says. Midorima looks back at him again. He’s looking down, mouth open in awe, at his cum dripping from Midorima’s asshole. “ _God_ that’s hot. I’d fuck you again if I wasn’t spent.”

“Cute,” Midorima says sarcastically. “Although I’d definitely want you to. I’m going to clean myself up.”

Midorima stands, and Kise does the same. Midorima takes a step towards the door, but Kise stops him to press a kiss to his lips. Midorima ignores the sweat and cum on his body in favor of pressing close to Kise. Kise’s hands grab the cheeks of Midorima’s ass. Midorima lets him, until he can’t stand how gross his skin feels and breaks away.

Kise comes with him to the bathroom, helps him clean himself off and cleans himself up as well, kissing him when he can. Afterwards they lay on Kise’s bed, their limbs tangled together and Midorima’s face in Kise’s hair. Kise’s fingers trace along the V of Midorima’s hips.

“Can I stay the night?” Midorima asks.

Kise glances over at him, a confused frown on his face. “Of course you can,” he replies. “Did you really think I was going to kick you out?”

“Maybe,” Midorima says. “Maybe, I don’t know.”

Kise laughs a little. “You must not have a very high opinion of yourself. If you stop acting like that, I might even make you breakfast in the morning.”

Midorima thinks he’s joking, though he can’t quite be sure. He’s never really been much for jokes. Midorima wraps his arms around Kise and hugs him tight to his body. He’s thin, not much to really hold onto as long as Midorima’s arms are, but he’s just enough.

“Are we dating?” Kise asks.

“Yeah,” Midorima says. “I mean, I’d like to be.”

“Good,” Kise says. He nuzzles his face into Midorima’s neck. “ _Finally_.”

“My sister got the pictures from her wedding back,” Midorima says.

“Yeah? How’d they come out?”

“Good. You know that picture they took of us kissing?” Midorima pauses for a moment. “I think it’s the happiest I’ve ever looked in my whole life, that picture.”

Kise turns his face up, shifting to look Midorima in the eye. He kisses Midorima again, sweet and soft, and Midorima leans into it.

“I like you so much,” Kise says when he pulls away. He nestles closer to Midorima again, his breath warm on Midorima’s skin. The more Kise says “I like you, I like you,” the more it starts to sound like an _I love you_. It’s not, of course. Maybe just not _yet_.

“I like you, too,” Midorima says. He feels like he’s fifteen again, and a little bit in love with this human ray of sunshine. He feels like a second-grader confessing a crush. Despite it all, though, it feels really, really, incredibly good to finally say it to him, after all this time. “I’ve liked you for so long.”

“Well, at least we’re not lying to your mom anymore,” Kise says, shrugging. “I felt so _bad_.”

“I felt bad too,” Midorima confesses.

“It was your idea!” Kise says, shoving him playfully. “You could have just asked me out for real!”

“That’s what Takao said,” Midorima admits. “Look, I’m sorry about all that. Really. I’m so glad I get to actually be with you.”

Kise hums against Midorima’s neck. “I forgive you,” he says. Midorima’s fingers brush along Kise’s ribs, hugging him close and touching him as much as he can. “Hey, Shintacchi,” Kise adds. “You’re my _boyfriend_ now.”

Midorima smiles, though Kise can’t see it as he is, face pushed against Midorima and his head under Midorima’s chin. “And you’re _my_ boyfriend.” Midorima feels like his world has shifted, like everything finally locked into place. Takao is going to lord this over him forever. For now, Midorima enjoys it. He wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.

 


End file.
